


Permeable

by jamiesfreckles



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, And Erik Is Not The Domestic Goddess He Pretends To Be, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, In Which Nobody Is Even Slightly Dead But Eleven Really Doesn't Like Grocery Shopping, Innuendo, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesfreckles/pseuds/jamiesfreckles
Summary: “Huh.” Erik pocketed his keys and tilted his head, standing in the doorway. “You look ghastly.”Eleven aimed a very judgemental look at Erik, but considering he was floating several inches above his own snoring body, and was currently faintly blue - not to mention,entirelytransparent - Erik rather thought he could keep his judgement to himself.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	Permeable

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T because of, uh, The Swear Words and some implied sexual humour. I have had a little too much of the calpol that even babies can drink, which means basically nothing except that I'm a little extra tired, which is why you all have to suffer my ridiculous words. I need to edit in the morning!
> 
> Enjoy, I hope you like it! <3

“Huh.” Erik pocketed his keys and tilted his head, standing in the doorway. “You look ghastly.”

Eleven aimed a very judgemental look at Erik, which morphed quite quickly into a pout when all Erik did was kick the front door shut. Considering he was floating several inches above his own snoring body, and was currently faintly blue and transparent, he didn't really have a leg to stand on when it came to bad puns or judgemental looks. Erik was the one with the right to judge here. Erik was the one with all the legs to stand on. 

Of course, Eleven didn't really have anything to stand on at all, considering he was currently--as previously mentioned--a fucking ghost.

Unfortunately, this was not an unusual occurrence. Erik hefted the paper bag of groceries a little higher in his arms. There was bread sticking out of the top of the bag, and his onions had wriggled free of their netting, bobbing about loosely in a sea of junk food and cheese. The bag was heavy and threatening to split, and he didn't have time to unearth the many, many reasons that Eleven was sure to have for turning himself into a ghost again. 

“You know, this is the third time in, what, a week?” Erik eyed his shimmering boyfriend warily, slipping off his shoes and stuffing his feet into the house slippers they kept by the door. “I’m gonna get a complex.”

Furious sign language only really worked when it was possible to see all of Eleven’s fingers. Which Erik couldn’t. Because they were _see-through,_ on account of him being an idiot who played with magic far too freely, which posed a bit of a problem. 

“No, seriously,” Erik carried on, strolling towards the kitchen without a backwards glance, “I’m really gonna get a complex. A great big complex, so big it won’t even fit through the front door. I’m gonna have a break-down in a few weeks and end up sobbing in Serena’s lap, and she’ll send me to a therapist because she’s too busy to deal with me, and the therapist will say; hey, Erik, what’s with that massive complex you’ve got hanging over you? And I’ll say, oh, it’s nothing, just the fact that my boyfriend would rather spend time being temporarily _dead_ than come grocery shopping with me.” Erik put the bag down and paused, before looking over his shoulder with a scowl. “Also, I told you to dry the dishes. You kicked me until I washed them, and now you have to dry them. That’s the rule.”

Very carefully and with great exaggeration, Eleven signed, ‘You forgot to put the wash on. We don't have any tea-towels.”

Erik considered this, and then flipped Eleven off. Then he went about putting away the onions and the eggs and the cheese, before tearing a hunk off the end of the baguette and biting down. He chewed obnoxiously slowly, staring Eleven directly in his horrified, hazy eyes, until the shimmering edges of his ghostly form sunk low enough to touch his real, snoring form. 

“Oh, _now_ you wanna slip into something more comfortable,” Erik muttered. 

Eleven’s ghostly form shrunk like candy floss in water, until there was nothing left. Erik swallowed most of the bread in one gulp and hastily stuffed the baguette in the bread bin, out of sight. The fact that it wasn’t actually a bread-bin, and was instead an old shoe-box, drove Veronica absolutely mad. That was the main reason why Erik hadn’t thrown it out even though most of their bread didn't fit in the shoe-box. 

There was a little gasp from the sofa. Eleven shot upright and blinked at the overhead light, before wincing and putting his head in his hands. 

“See, this is the problem with dating Necromancers,” Erik said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “They’re so used to hanging around dead things that they forget all about the shit that comes with being alive. You forgot to drink water again, didn't you?”

A pitiful noise escaped Eleven. He ducked his head down further but waved one hand in the air, grasping like he was trying to grab Erik from across the room. When the noise turned into a whine, Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the stash they kept in the cupboard. He crossed the room and dropped the bottle in Eleven’s lap. 

“We buy the fancy spring stuff for a reason, you egg,” Erik said lightly. 

Eleven dropped his hands and sprung up like a trap, reaching up to pull Erik down by the collar of his jacket. With a squawk, Erik tumbled over the back of the sofa, catching his waist awkwardly on the way down before scrambling to make his legs follow. Soon he was sprawled on Eleven’s lap, their legs intertwined and Eleven’s arms wrapped firmly around his torso, strong and unyielding. 

“That was underhanded,” Erik muttered into Eleven’s neck. He felt the deep rumble of Eleven’s laughter through their chests, and it made heat rise in his face; he buried his face further into the space beneath his jaw, hiding his red cheeks against Eleven’s slow, steady pulse. 

“You’re not supposed to do your Necromancer shit unless there’s someone around. Remember when you tried talking to a bunch of crows the day before Sylv’s birthday, and you ended up in the Emergency Room?” Erik swallowed hard, recalling the way his heart dropped when he saw Eleven lying prone in the hallway, his gaunt face slack and unmoving. “I thought Sylv was gonna kill you with cake for that.”

Eleven nudged him slightly, and Erik shifted upright until he was sat up, straddling Eleven’s thighs, just so that he could see Eleven sign, ‘Fun way to go.’

“No.” Erik shoved his shoulder; it made no difference when he was lying down, but it was satisfying in its own right. “Gemma and Jade find your weird, dark humour funny. Not me. And drink water before you do your ghoul thing, and wait until I’m here. And don't think you can get away with skipping the next grocery trip. I’ll drag your ass there no matter how pasty and permeable it is.”

‘Big word.’ Eleven’s mouth ticked up, teasing. ‘I’m proud.’

Erik shoved him again. “Jerk. Why’d I ever take you on a date?”

‘You like watching me eat.’

And _that_ was the last straw, because it might’ve been true but it sure as hell was getting old, that joke. The damning part was that it still made Erik’s face flare with heat. 

“I’m a fuckin’ kitchen witch,” Erik hissed, digging his fingers into Eleven’s sides until he jerked and wriggled, huffing. “All I did was make food, like I’m supposed to, since that’s my magic speciality or whatever. You’re the one that swooned when you put it in your mouth, not--”

But Eleven was doing something very flexible with his eyebrows and laughing at him with his eyes, no longer hazy but a bright, vivid colour that pinned Erik in place, and it was impossible to even pretend to be mad. He melted in Eleven’s lap and leaned down, kissing him soundly on the mouth. 

They kissed every day. Sometimes more than their friends appreciated, but Erik was so far gone on this boy that he found it hard to care. They kissed on their way through doors and out of rooms, and sometimes Erik was waylaid at the kitchen counter, and he had to be very careful not to burn whatever he was cooking, distracted by the way Eleven pressed him up against the worktop and worked his mouth open, all tongue and stifled little noises and simmering heat. They kissed in a hurried, distracted way and a soft, pliant way. And they kissed like this, fierce and loving and with a hint of playful joy that said _don't ever stop being you._

Eleven found the wide expanse of his thigh and sketched Erik’s name there, with purposeful strokes, until he shivered and drew back. Eleven looked up at him, his eyes dark and fond, and huffed a breath through red lips. 

‘Sorry,’ Eleven signed slowly, almost languidly, into the small space between them. ‘I’ll be more careful in the future. No more ghost adventures unless you’re here.’

It took a moment before Erik remembered what they’d been talking about, but eventually he cleared his throat and nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’d hate to have to stop cooking for you. You’d die because you don't know how to make anything that isn’t frozen pizza, and then there’d be nobody here to hoover.”

‘Lazy,’ Eleven signed, reaching up for another kiss. 

“Mmm.” Erik pulled away before his eyes could flutter shut fully, sucking in a breath and shifting slightly. “Who’s the one who couldn’t be bothered to dry the dishes, again? You’ve got flaws too, asshole, even if they are hidden under your perfect hair.”

Eleven shook some of that perfect hair out of his eyes, which glinted with mischief. ‘At least I don't make bad p-u-n-s. I get to make one back, right? That’s a rule.’

“You get one,” Erik begrudgingly agreed, and regretted it immediately when Eleven bucked up against him--with intent, but not the usual kind. He made a pained noise as something dug into his thigh, and scowled when Eleven started to laugh.

‘Is that a water bottle in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’

**Author's Note:**

> It's not fleshed out so I suppose it may not make much sense but I have the beginnings of something here. And it's a whole world that I think would be fun to explore - especially the bit before about how they get together, which includes Erik the Kitchen Witch trying to make this dumb pretty Necromancer actually eat something while they run from Supernatural Agencies and Sylv, who has too much power. But this bit is sort of just a snippet, and I think it works on its own if you don't look too deeply!
> 
> So perhaps I will come back to this! If you like! <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it!! <3


End file.
